Had Thrilling Experiences In Poverty Bay Massacre.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18644, 22 December 1928, Page 23 (Supplement)

Had Thrilling Experiences In Poverty Bay Massacre.

MR JAMES WILSON WRITES OF HIS ADVENTURES DURING HAU-HAU RAID. Written for the “ Star ” by James G. Wilson. IN THIS SERIES of articles, written for the “ Star,” Mr .Tames G. Wilson gives an account of his thrilling experiences in the Poverty Bay Massacre. He was seven years of age when Te Ivooti and the Hau-haus raided his home, killed his father, and so severely wounded his mother that she died a short time afterwards. Mr Wilson was uninjured, and was found by men who went out from Gisborne after the Hau-haus had continued on their track into the country. Mr Wilson is a retired civil servant. He has lived in Rastrick Street, St Albans, for a long time. TTT

I heard the Maoris go downstairs. They remained quiet for some time longer. * Opening the door quietly, I listened at the top of the staircase. All seemed still below, so down I went. Once outside I made for a small flax swamp on the eastern face of Captain Bloomfield’s dwelling—probably the safest place since leaving home. Tired out, I went to sleep. When I awoke with the cold, it was broad daylight. The time was not for me to know. Just what happened this day I am not quite sure, beyond the fact that I was afraid to go back to the old home, now a heap of ashes. I wandered in search of food, only to fall back on the sweet briar and young shoots. There was no scarcitjr of them. Fresh Fires. Te Kooti and his followers were still in the district. Fresh fires seemed to break out away in the distance towards Gisborne (or Poverty Bay, as it was then known) ; also rifle shots could sometimes be heard in different directions. I had enough caution left in me not to travel very far for the present. As night approached, I selected a fairly dense sweet briar bush, somewhat in the open, and not (probably) more than half a mile from Bloomfield s house. I worked myself well into the centre of this briar bush. This remained my hiding place till the end. I slept there every night.

Wandering. I have previously mentioned that my wanderings occupied some four or five days. lam afraid it was much longer. It is doubtful whether I could so much rough ground, and be a witness to the great loss of life and property for several miles around our old home, in so short a time. For the sake of reference, I call this the first day of dawn, for so it was. Thinking that I was alone, not hearing any disturbing sounds for some time, I ventured some half-mile away from this “flax swamp” (my bed of the first night), and came to a whare or cottage. Someone was inside, but whether paheka, Maori, or otherwise, I have nearly forgotten. He seemed quite content to remain where he was. Perhaps he was not wanted by Te Kooti. We spoke to each other. I passed that way on the second day, or perhaps later. The cottage was empty—he had gone.

The Second Day. My next move was towards our old home, this being the second day. I just remained long enough to change my pony, still on the tether, to fresh pasture. I heard the dogs bark, and returned to shelter near Bloomfield’s. Probably during the afternoon, I wandered over to Major Biggs’s homestead, and the very near other dwellings, store, etc. What I saw through those French windows the first night was now fully revealed. Major Biggs, his wife and infant, and their maid! and many others, had not escaped, and their one-time modest homes were burnt to the ground, and still smouldering in places, for there had not been _ any rain to silence the fires. Leaving this sad scene, X wandered some distance further, I suppose making an effort to reach Gisborne township. I knew the direction, but to find the track was quite another matter. I returned home to the sweet briar bush for the night. Marked Men. History tells us that Major Biggs and Captain Wilson were the two marked men of the district, due no doubt to their official position, which caused them to take a part in deporting Te Kooti and some of his followers to the Chatham Islands, for which Te Kooti never forgave them. November 10, 1868, was his night of revenge. Iri order that neither officer could escape, le Kooti silently surrounded their homes with fifteen or twenty of his followers. In so doing, he omitted to surround Captain Bloomfield’s home. I remember the captain quite well. I do not remember his taking any active part in the various campaigns. Some members of his family had gone to Auckland only a little time before the fatal night, and thus escaped. lam inclined to believe that Captain Bloomfield had gone to his long rest ere this. The Letter Ruse. The “ letter ruse " was used to decoy poor Major Biggs to open the door, and come out, evidently not anticipating any danger. He met the cruel bayonet. A young man called Charlie James, employed by Major Biggs, and probably in his whare a few yards distant, took warning, and made his way with all speed over to Captain Bloomfield’s and warned the inmates, consisting of Miss Minnie Parker and her baby brother, and others, Charlie James being an athletic young man with a good knowledge of the various tracks which would eventually lead them practically free from the danger '/.one. They struck right across country towards the sea coast, and thence following up the sea line, arrived in Poverty Bay township (now Gisborne) safely. Now, my readers, you can understand why the Bloomfield’s home was so silent, and their beds quite warm.

The Third Day. On the third day I wandered in many different directions, and returned to the final scene of November 10. I cannot tell you more, only that my mother was not among the other members of our now desolate home. Leaving this sad spot, I returned to where my pony was tethered. Like myself, he was in want of food and water I had no means to supply, unless I incurred great risk of being seen. I changed his tether to better grass. Our two dogs started to bark, and 1 heard the door of our food safe slam. I took shelter in the manuka, and returned to my sweetbriar home for a time.

A World of Death. Alone in a world of death and desolation, my thoughts many times wandered back to the days when my mother arid those of her children at that time spent many happy days with my mother’s sister and her husband, Mr and Mrs Thomas Lowry, at Okawa, Hawke’s Bay, I wondered if ever I would see Mrs Lowry again, for I did not seem to know of anyone else now.

My father would be at the front, away back in the bush-clad country, anywhere between Napier and Gisborne or Lake Wailcaremoana. The edges of this lake formed a fringe to some of the wildest forest country in the North Island. Of course, we had not gone to live in Poverty Bay (now Gisborne). The times were too unsettled for the present.

Confused Wanderings. Leaving ray sweetbriar home, probably during the afternoon, I wandered round the Bloomfields’ house and just looked in. I may have gone inside in search of food. I did not venture upstairs. Everj'thing seemed the same. It is just possible that I made a second attempt to reach Poverty Bay township during the afternoon or early on the morning of the fourth day. I was more successful this time. Probably I found a more direct track. Eventually I found several houses, or what was left of them, for they showed signs of plunder and fire. In a shed, probably the storeroom, were some cakes of chocolate and also a big bag of currants. This place would be some four miles from the Poverty Bay township, and was called Makaraka. The shades of evening were beginning to give warning, so, taking some chocolate and the big bag of currants, I arrived at my sweetbriar home about dusk, footsore and tired. We did not wear shoes and silk stockings in those days—only the gift of nature. So much the better for me under present circumstances. A sweetbriar bush is not very comfortable. No doubt, after breakfast, consisting of chocolate, currants and perhaps some sweetbriar young shoots, I would feel better. Our very small church, roofed with shingles, somewhere between Captain Bloomfield’s and ‘Major Biggs's, was still standing. I doubt whether they ever burnt churches. Like their own burying grounds, the “ tapu ” (sacred) was upon them. I saw this little church many years after. My thoughts went back to a time when we were all in church. A messenger whispered some cause for alarm to my father. He arose and went home. By the time we all got back my father and his troop horse Matakokiri were ready—good-bye to all for some months to come. Such was the life of a mother and her children in those days. In, a Swamp. It may have been on the fifth day I made my third effort to reach the township. I struck across country towards the sea coast, and came to flax swamps. I got bogged in trying to cross to the other side. But for this, my journey seemed fairly successful. I returned home. The district seemed very quiet. I wandered back to the old home, probably to change my pony on his tether for the third time. Someone had taken him, and also the tether rope. Opening the safe door, I saw that no food was left. Perhaps I gave our dogs water. Much to my delight our little white poodle dog came from his hiding. We wandered among the various sheds. I thought I heard a movement. I spoke. My mother answered: “Is that you Jimmie?” Our meeting after some five days need not be described. It was sad! Mother’s Suffering. My mother told me what happened after I left that night. After many hours of exposure (made worse by a Maori, whom we all knew well, who stood and looked at my mother, removed her shawl, and went away with it) she managed to find shelter in her present position. She showed me some seven wounds. Leaving a bottle of water from our tanks, and several raw eggs, I returned to my briar bush for the night. My mother would never let me remain at night, lest we might be seen. Returning next morning with some hot embers from a burnt dwelling, I made a small fire and cooked some eggs in a big iron ladle. My mother told me not to make much smoke, lest the Maoris might be attracted and return. At some period of this day I was near the Bloomfield’s dwelling. Hearing shots coming from the same direction, I saw'many horsemen coming in my direction. They may have been half a mile away. I disappeared round the other side of Bloomfield's house. Travelling in a circle, with ample cover, I was soon hidden from their view and reached my 3weet briar home, and remained quiet till next day. Several horsemen rode round, probably one or two hundred yards from me. I could see them very plainly. Eventually they gave up, and, I suppose, joined the others. The Last Fire. From my hiding place I could see fairly well and also hear. They were all round Bloomfield’s after plunder, for there must have been much that they would require in such a fine dwelling. It seemed a long time to me. Then Bloomfield's was in full flame, the last house to be burnt in the district. A bugle call sounded several times, they all got on their horses, and presently were riding past me, some one hundred yards away. I had a perfect view of them, some with their rifles slung and others at the ready. From my knowledge of troops, there should have been 100 to 150 Hau-haus.

Returning to my mother next morning, I told her all I had seen, and also the direction they were riding in. Knowing more of the district than I did, my mother said that evidently they had finished. In my father’s coat, which I was wearing, my mother found a notebook and pencil. Writing with difficulty, she gave me the note to take with me, at the same time giving me directions how to find my way to Poverty Bay township. At once I set out, taking my faithful white poodle dog, and made good progress on my journey. Previous prospecting helped me, no doubt. Right ahead T. could see the heads of three horsemen coming ray way. Gathering up my little dog under my coat, I moved off the track enough to let them go by. The poor little thing barked. Lifting me up behind, one horseman took me to the township. My note explained all. A relief party immediately went out and brought my mother to the home- of the Ven Archdeacon Williams, where we received all the attention possible in those days,

and also the loving attention of her sister, Mrs Thomas Lowry, of Okawa “ PLEASURE FOR OTHERS.” The following is an extract from a letter from an old friend of the “Star ” resident in the North Island:—"Mv old friend of 87 still writes me from New Plymouth. His last letter said: T do like reading Mr Green's writings i n the ‘‘Star.’’ What a remarkable memory he has, and these old photos he gets—what memories they bring back. So you see that half the sweetness of life is to produce pleasures for others.’ ”